Razorblades

    I sit in the bathroom, overwhelmed by the horrifying images rushing through my head.
    Daddy screaming. My brother trying to pick fights with me, and who could blame him for wanting attention. Mom is crying. Dad wants her to go to the bedroom, she’s not in the mood to be treated like a piece of meat. He takes me instead. He wants me to “message his back“. That’s what he tells Mom anyways. It’s always the same. I’m only 11 but I already know how to do it.
    I see the blood rushing down my legs, I see it in my mind. It’s dripping through the ridges of my brain and I feel it as it starts to gush out of my eyes along with the tears dripping down my cheeks.
    The sharp, shinny object sitting in my hand falls to the flood as my hand trembles with rage. The past keeps coming to mind, and I try to come up with reasons not to end my miserable life right this moment.
    No one is here to stop you, just do it. Slit your wrist. Place the razor at the bottom of your wrist and bring it all the way up the vein. That should do it. Go for it Mandi, things would be so much better for everyone. Think about it, you would finally be at peace.
    I cant do it, I’ve never been able to. How many times haven’t I tried and tried and never once have I been hospitalized. I just do what I do best. I bring myself physical pain to get rid of the emotional pain, the one that never ends, just lingers like a bad cold. I’m too weak, scared.
    Of what?
    I don’t know.
    There’s nothing to be scared of. Well…life. That’s scary. But dying? That’s the best that could happen sometimes.
    I begin to sob as I hold the razorblade to my right thigh.
“Mandi, what the f**k are you doing to yourself again“?
    I stare at the voice emanating from the small girl in the full body mirror in front of me. Her long black hair flowing down her face. Her skinny body crouched on the bathroom floor, naked, vulnerable.
    “I don’t know, I don’t know what I’m f*****g doing. Just let me be. Please?
    “You’re f*****g crazy Mandi.
    My voice is no longer small, calm. I begin to yell at her with fury.
    “No. Not me. You’re the crazy one. You just sit there and you watch as everyone f***s up my life. You watch them take my innocence away from me. You let them do it. Why don’t you stop them? Why don’t you f*****g protect me?
    My hand moves the razor blade from my thigh to my wrist again.
    A cold sweat starts to break out of the tiny pores encompassing my skinny body. My big chocolaty eyes blink rapidly. My right shoulder begins to twitch uncontrollable as it usually does. I can’t take anymore. It’s too much. I need out of this spinning world that makes me dizzy every time I open my eyes.
    It’s time. With one swift motion of the tiny weapon, this girls life will end tonight. Blood pours out of the wound. I feel sick, weak. A dark, blurry figure walks into the bathroom as my eyes slowly close and the pain slips away.